Growing up, I have never experienced my father laying a hand on me in anger. Despite the many stupid things I've done, he would much rather give me advise or chatter me up to get to the bottom of things.
There was this one time when I got into a fight. He wasn't angry at all because I fought, specially since I have already explained the nature of the conflict. He was more angry because I lost the Batangas fan blade he gave me for my birthday because it ran away together with the thigh it was stuck in. Two days later, I arrive from school and he was home with two pairs of boxing gloves prepared. Before the spar, he warned me that I was not allowed to hit him on the face because he was wearing glasses... But that was it, it was my punishment. I was beaten a bit black and blue but I threw in a few rib shots of my own that made him cringe. -- that was my father. Always fair, always brilliant, always fun.
Since I've lost my father at a young age, I've been a sucker for older, father figure bosses. Unfortunately, none of them really stepped up to the plate of expectations. Then I remembered that these guys are rich and are on top and therefore my father definitely did not have that "thing" they have... nor will they ever have the "thing" my father had... humanity.
Recently, I was made to feel that for all the atrocities received, all the sufferings endured and all the wounds afflicted, there will be no apology, there will be no remorse, there will be no public vindication. Lick your own wounds, stand up and solve my problems, because only you can.... you are only a hired help.
then I was reminded, my father has died and gone to heaven...
welcome to hell!
P.S. I drove to work with a blood glucose level of 369... the stress is wearing me down.
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